


Do Drinks Have Genders?

by phinnia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 09:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: Botany classes, paper umbrellas, and water-soluble glue.   Set early season three.





	Do Drinks Have Genders?

“You want a beer or something?”     Harry asked, looking over Neelix’s new beach resort.  
  
Tom pursed his lips thoughtfully.   “Mai tai.”  
  
“A _what_?”  
  
“I want a mai tai.  The computer will know how to make it.   The _original_ mai tai, from Trader Vic’s.   None of those new ridiculous ones.   And _don’t_ let Neelix _touch_ it.”  
  
Harry went off to the replicator and ordered their drinks.    He was feeling nervous about this.   This was kind of a date - well, it was a party, but he was attending it with Tom - and he was paying for drinks.  
  
Tom was sitting at a table for two, blonde hair shining softly in the moonlight over the hibiscus flowers on his Hawaiian shirt, tapping his fingers gently on the table, talking to B’Elanna.  
  
Harry went back with the drinks.  
  
“My beer, and your untouched-by-Neelix-original-Trader-Vic’s mai tai.”     
  
Tom grinned, took out the red paper parasol, and put it behind his right ear.  It looked like a flower.  
  
“That is a really girly drink.”    B’Elanna says, with half a smile on her face.  
  
“It’s got rum and orange curacao in it.   A higher alcohol content than Harry’s beer and the wine you’re drinking put together.  If anyone would ever do such a disgusting thing as put beer and wine together.”  
  
She shrugs.   “Okay, so it’s a manly girly drink, then.”  
  
“Do drinks _have_ genders?   What gender is that beer that Harry’s drinking?”  
  
“I think I see Vorik.”  Harry says helpfully, even though he doesn’t.  
  
“Gotta run.”   She darts off through the crowd.  
  
Tom takes a sip of his mai tai and sighs, his eyes closed, moaning softly.   “Oh.  I forgot how great these are.”  
  
Harry half-wonders to himself if Tom makes a face like that when he comes.   And then he has to not think about that for a while and think about weather engrams instead, because wow, that was one hell of a blissed-out expression.  
  
Neelix has made some kind of dessert canapes that are actually pretty good.   Sweet, but good, so they have some of those, and Tom has another mai tai and puts a purple umbrella over his left ear, so he’s more balanced, he says.  
  
“You look cute like that.”   Harry says.   “With the umbrellas.”  
  
“Think so?”   Tom raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Yeah.   I don’t know, it suits you.   It suits the whole beach theme.   They look like those flowers on your shirt.”  
  
“Hibiscus.”  
  
“Yeah, those.”   Harry coughs.   “You back on alpha shift tomorrow?”   He was still nervous, but trying to hide it.  
  
“Yeah.”   Tom was looking at the table.     
  
“Wanna meet for breakfast in the mess?   Say, six hundred?”  
  
“Sure!”    
  
Harry smiled.   “Looks like it’s starting to thin out a bit.   We should probably split.”  
  
“Yeah.”    Tom nods.  
  
  
He walks Tom home because that’s what you do with dates even though Tom knows his own way home from the holodeck by now and it’s only six doors down the hall anyway.     
  
“You want to come in?”    Tom asks him.  
  
“Sure!”   Tom didn’t invite him in much.   Usually Tom came to his place, or they met in the holodeck.   Actually, Harry thinks he’s seen inside Tom’s quarters … once?   Yeah, once.    
  
The strangest thing, he notices when he comes in, is how clean it is.   He would have assumed Tom to have a tendency towards sloppiness, but apparently not.   Clean and neat.   Really neat.   Books on a shelf - real paper books.   He looks through them.   Novels.  A lot of ocean-going themes and science fiction.   Moby Dick, Jules Verne.  Robert Heinlein. Ursula K. LeGuin.  Neil Gaiman.  
  
Padds on a table, neatly stacked.  
  
The bed, neatly made.  
  
Not a lot of personal stuff.  
  
“Didn’t know you read comic books.”   He looks at the Gaiman omnibus.  
  
“Those aren’t just comics, Harry.   The Sandman deserves a place in classic literature.   It was a classic when he wrote it and it still is.”   Tom takes the Sandman volume down.   “Here.   Read this.   _Absorb_ it.   And then tell me they’re just comics.”  
  
Harry goes over to the door, with the book in one hand.   “I should … probably go.   It’s getting late.”  
  
“Yeah.”   Tom fidgets, and then he bends down and kisses Harry gently on the lips.  
  
Harry wraps his arm around Tom’s neck and kisses back.   Tom’s lips are really soft and warm and they move gently.   He feels a slight moan on Tom’s mouth, so he kisses a little deeper, licking Tom’s lower lip, and Tom opens his mouth into the kiss.   The kiss gets wet and hot and hungry and when they pull apart, Harry is panting and he can only see a slight ring of blue around Tom’s eyes.  
  
“I could stay.”   he says hopefully.  
  
Tom looks like he’s thinking about it.   “Not tonight, okay?   I’m really tired.”  
  
And he gives Harry another kiss on the way out the door.      
  
“You were not tired, Paris.”    Harry muttered, opening his own door.    “That was _your_ hard-on sticking in my leg, you were _just_ as turned on as I was.”  
  
Well, Harry thinks, at least he’ll have something to read.  
  
  
The Sandman is actually excellent.   It’s the adventures of a guy named Dream - sort of the incarnation of dreams.   Harry reads the first two volumes and puts it down with great difficulty, poring over the artwork.    There are so many allusions in it - history, fantasy, dogs, cats, travel, famous people, love.   He’s not surprised Tom likes it at all.  
  
He sets his alarm for oh-five-thirty and falls asleep.   He dreams of Tom, writhing and moaning underneath him, pale and beautiful, making that face he made while he was drinking the mai tai.   He wakes up hard and has a shower and makes himself come, thinking about Tom and his sweet mouth that tasted like orange curacao and almond sugar.     
  
Neelix’s breakfast is some kind of violet goo.  Tom already has a table in the corner.  
  
“Sorry, I was up late.”   Harry yawns.   “Reading the Sandman.   Damn, that’s a great book.”  
  
“See?   I told you.”   Tom grins.   “It’s fantastic.   How far did you get?”  
  
“Oh, just the end of the second volume.   But I had to _make myself_ put it down.”   Harry thinks about telling Tom about his shower, but decides not to, because Chell isn’t too far away and he’s probably one of the biggest gossips on the ship.   And it _is_ the mess hall.   Maybe later.     Harry has a bite of the violet goo.   It tastes like fake strawberries.  “What the hell is this?”  
  
“Um.   Some-kind-of-berry-porridge.”    Tom pokes it with his spoon.   “Kinda tastes like bubble gum.”  
  
“Yeah.   It does.”  
  
“I like the color, though.”   Tom says.   “It’s pretty … pretty interesting.”  
  
“I guess.   I just never imagined porridge that color.”     Harry thinks for a minute.   “You busy later?”  
  
“Got a few hours of holodeck time.   Wanna come along?”  
  
“Sure.   Any plans?”  
  
Tom shrugs.   “I don’t know yet, actually.   Thought about snorkelling.   You ever been snorkelling?”  
  
“Sounds fun.”   Harry smiles, and imagines Tom in a bathing suit, and then his brain starts to short out.  
  
  
Snorkelling _is_ fun.   And Tom looks great in a bathing suit - long board shorts with more of those flowers on them.   They make out on the beach for a while, watching the sun set into the ocean.    Harry keeps kissing him, running his hands over Tom’s chest and up over his shoulders and back, down over Tom’s ass.   His skin is so soft, too, and it’s a kind of glowing rose color in the sunset.  
  
The computer tells them they have five minutes left, and Tom pulls away reluctantly.   “We should probably move this, yeah?”    He pulls a t-shirt over his head.  
  
“Probably..”   Harry murmurs, finding his own sand-covered top.    “Your place, or mine?”  
  
“Yours is closer.”  
  
Harry likes the sound of ‘closer’.   Closer sounds good.   Closer sounds _promising_.     
  
They start making out on the sofa for a while - could have been ten minutes or an hour, Harry’s lost track of time completely.    But he gets Tom’s shirt off again, and his own, on the narrow, too-short-to-really-make-out-on Starfleet-issue-sofa.  
  
“Bed’s a lot more comfortable.”   He murmurs into Tom’s ear.  
  
Those blue eyes are almost all black again, just thin rings of blue.   “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  He nips Tom’s collarbone.   “I’ll show you.”  
  
He strips Tom nude on his bed, licking him all over, tasting the salt of his skin and Tom’s own male muskiness.  As he watches, Tom goes from merely aroused to whimpering, rhythmically rocking his hips into the air, his hard cock leaking clear fluid against his belly.  
  
“God.”   Tom moans.   “Christ.   Shit.   _Fuck_.”  
  
“What do you want?”  Harry whispers.  “Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you.”  
  
“Fuck me, Harry, _please_.”  
  
Harry grins and reaches inside his bedside table for the lube, coats one hand with it and gently coats himself.   Then he uses his still-fairly-lubricated fingers to open Tom up.   First one, then two.    He can see Tom trying not to wriggle, trying not to fuck himself on Harry’s fingers.      
  
“You like this?”   Harry murmurs as he works a third finger in.  
  
“Yeah.”   Tom groans.   “Oh, fuck.”  
  
Harry eases his way in, and Tom moans even louder, shoving back on Harry’s cock with his hips.  
  
“Tell me how I can make you come.”   He nips Tom’s ear.   “Want you to come for me.”  
  
“Touch me, touch me.”   Tom’s voice sounds breathy, half-there.  
  
“Where?”    
  
“Touch my cock.”  
  
Harry wraps his hand around Tom and starts stroking, gently at first, but then a little harder when Tom gets his hips into the act.   He can’t say anything now, even though he loves the way Tom responds to his sexy words.   There’s just too much involved  - Tom’s little moans every time Harry snaps his hips forward, the pressure of his own climax approaching.  
  
Tom comes first, spilling all over Harry’s hand, wet and sticky and hot, and his cry is halfway between a moan and a shout.   Harry feels Tom’s body tighten around his cock and that draws him into his own orgasm seconds later, long and drawn out, and _damn_ , it feels _great._      
  
“Mmm.”    He kisses the back of Tom’s neck.   “That was _fantastic_.”  
  
Tom grins at him lazily.   “Never figured you’d be one for dirty talk.”  
  
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”   Harry laughs.     
  
  
The next morning, Neelix catches Tom just outside the mess hall.     
  
“Tom!   Can you run down to the airponics bay and get me some Talaxian shalath blossoms?    I need about half a dozen more.”  
  
“Sure.”   Tom shrugs.  
  
Harry tags along.    “I didn’t know you knew anything about flowers.”  
  
“Took a couple botany classes.”   Tom says casually.     
  
Harry tries to imagine the Tom he knows looking at _flowers_.   It seems strange.  
  
“Well, you know, science requirements.”   Tom says, as though this is totally normal.    He walks right over to the flowers that Neelix wants and plucks about ten of them off the plant.  
  
Harry supposes that makes some sense.   He walks back to the mess hall with Tom and the flowers.  
  
  
That night, he walks Tom back to his quarters after they’ve had a few drinks at the beach, and they kiss again, hot and hungry.   Now Harry  knows what Tom feels like naked underneath him, and it’s worse.  
  
“I told B’Elanna I’d help her with something before the morning briefing.”   Tom says, looking at his toes.   He gives Harry another hungry kiss, and then disappears into his quarters without saying another word.  
  
Harry sighs and goes back to his own quarters and has a shower and reads two more volumes of the Sandman and falls asleep, dreaming of Tom again.  
  
But when he gets to the morning briefing, B’Elanna’s there and Tom isn’t.   Actually, nobody's there except the two of them.  
  
“Tom getting the report together or something?”  he asks.  
  
She looks at him in complete confusion.   “What?”  
  
“Last night he said he had to help you with something before the morning briefing.”    _What the fuck?_  
  
B’Elanna shakes her head.   “I haven’t seen him.”  
  
“Computer, location of Lieutenant Paris.”  
  
The computer informed him that Tom was in his quarters.  
  
“How long has Lieutenant Paris been in his quarters?”  
  
“Since 2237 yesterday evening.”  
  
Harry nods.   That makes some sense.    That was about the time he’d left Tom.  
  
“Has anyone else been in the Lieutenant’s quarters?”   B’Elanna asks.  
  
“Negative.”  
  
“Well, he’s not _cheating_ on you.”   she shrugs.   “Go down there and check.   I’ll cover for you.”  
  
Harry runs through the halls, down to Tom’s quarters.   He rings the door chime.  
  
“Just a second.”     Tom’s voice, muffled.    Then the door opens.   “Sorry, I slept in, my alarm didn’t go off.    Don’t you _hate it_ when that happens?”  
  
“Yeah.”   He tries to see past Tom as the door shuts, but he doesn’t see anything.  
  
  
During the bridge shift, Harry thinks, and then after shift, he goes to talk to Jenny Delaney, Tom’s last girlfriend.  
  
“Harry!”   she says, grinning.   “Don’t tell me you and Tom broke up already.”  
  
“Nope, just fishing for information.”     
  
“Oh, damn.”   She snaps her fingers.   “Well, I can do _information_.   What do you need to know?”  
  
“Was he always weird about getting out of uniform?”  
  
Jenny rolls her eyes.   “The worst.   It’s like those pants were _glued_ on.   They may actually have been glued on.   I did get him naked a few times, but only after swimming, that sort of thing, you know.”  
  
“Water-soluble glue, maybe.”   Harry laughs.  
  
“Could be.”   She sighs.   “So _weird_ , Harry.   Does he still have all those flowers in his room?”  
  
“Flowers?”  
  
“Yeah.   He used to have flowers everywhere.   In pots and stuff.  That was weird, too.”    
  
Harry nods.   “Okay.   Thanks, Jen.”  
  
  
He meets Tom in the mess again.   Tonight, Neelix is serving some kind of pale blue-white vegetable with some more of that goo.   This time it’s not violet, it’s more of a light green.  
  
“Well, this is interesting.”   Harry looks at it.   He tastes it.   “Not bad.”  
  
“I like that green color.”   Tom says.  
  
“Mmm?”     
  
“Yeah.”     
  
Harry thinks about this, too.   “What do you want to do tonight?   We could see if the holodeck’s free, go for a swim or something.   Or we could just go back to my place, or yours.”  
  
Tom looks a little nervous.   “Harry -“  
  
“Tom.”   He slides his hand across the table and puts it on top of Tom’s hand.  “I’ve already seen everything you’ve got.”  
  
“Well, not everything.”   Tom mutters under his breath.  
  
“I don’t care.”   Harry says.      
  
Tom sighs.   “My dad didn’t disown me bacause of Caldik Prime.” he murmurs, a bare whisper.  
  
“No?”   Harry had always assumed.  
  
“No.    I just let everybody think that’s why.”    He looks straight in Harry’s eyes, and he’s serious now.   “Do you really not care?”  
  
“No.   I really, really don’t.”  
  
Tom drops his fork.   “Come with me.”  
  
Harry obediently follows Tom down the hall, and into the turbolift.  
  
  
Tom lets them into his quarters, and he engages a level one privacy lock.  
  
He takes a deep breath and sighs, standing in front of Harry.    “Strip me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Strip me.”   He’s got a very faint, nervous smile on his face.  “And if you tell _anyone_ about this, I’ll tell the whole ship you still wet your bed.”  
  
Harry looks strangely at Tom, and then takes off his shirt.     
  
Nothing strange there.  
  
Tom kicks off his boots and toes his socks off.  
  
Nothing there, either.  
  
He starts to pull the trousers down -  
  
And -  
  
Wait.  
  
No boxer shorts.  
  
Those are not boxer shorts. The waistband is thinner. Slightly more feminine. Is that _silk_? Yeah. It is. And lace.   
  
He pauses.  
  
“Penny’s dropped.”   Tom sighs, staring at his bare toes.  
  
Harry’s jaw drops.   He’s half-hard just thinking about Tom wearing silk and lace panties under his uniform.   “You … you do this all the time?”  
  
“Yeah.”   Tom swallows.   “Every day.”  
  
“Oh, my God.   I have to see this.”    Harry almost tears the uniform pants off.    
  
It’s even better than he imagined, and Harry Kim has a _vivid_ imagination.   They are violet silk - the same shade as breakfast the other day, actually - and they have white lace around the edges, and he can see Tom’s cock in them, and now he has to wipe drool off his chin.  
  
Tom looks at him with shy hope in his eyes.   “I have camisoles, too.”  
  
“Get over here.”   He grabs Tom and drags him on the bed.    
  
“You like them?”   Tom whispers.  
  
“Oh, God, you look _amazing_.  You look _incredible_.   I don’t have _words_.   I should make you walk around just wearing those underwear except I’d never be able to get anything done.”   Harry gently pulls them off using his teeth and drops them on the floor.  
  
“You really think that?”    
  
Harry starts stripping off his clothes, pants first.   “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious I do.”  
  
“Oh, God.”   Tom moans, squeezing Harry’s cock.   “Fuck.  Fuck, I need that.”  
  
“You need that in your ass?”   Harry whispers.     
  
“God, fuck yes.”   Tom hands him some lube from under the pillow, and this time he works himself on Harry’s fingers.     
  
“Come on, baby.”  Harry mutters, twisting his fingers inside.   “Come on, let me fuck you hard.”  
  
“Call me baby again.”   Tom says breathlessly, his voice hardly recognizable.  
  
“Yes, baby.”    Harry slides his cock inside hard, and Tom wails.    “Come on, baby, come for me.  So pretty, you’re so pretty, baby.    I think you’re pretty.”  
  
He slides his hand over Tom’s cock, but it hardly needs more than a touch to make Tom rock his hips back against him and come wildly, screaming.    The scream echoes around Tom’s room - and Harry just has to think about those panties under that boring regulation uniform, sitting at the conn, sitting in meetings, Tom’s gorgeous ass framed by silk and lace, and he snaps into an orgasm so hard he can barely breathe.  
  
Harry pulls out, flopping on the bed.   “Start wearing the camisoles.”  
  
“You think?”   Tom smiles at him in a sex-sated, lazy fashion.  
  
“Yeah.  Start wearing the camisoles.”    Harry kisses the back of Tom’s neck.    “Give me something to think about, way back there at Ops.”  
  
  
“So what do you call this one again?”   Tonight Tom was buying the drinks.  
  
“Sex on the Beach.”   Tom has a long drink of it.  “Sadly, no umbrellas.”  
  
“Good name, though.”   Harry grins at him.     
  
“Thought you’d like it.”  
  
Harry thinks.   “Pink.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Purple?”  
  
“Nope nope.”  
  
B’Elanna comes over to their table.   “ _Another_ ridiculous girly drink?”  
  
“I _like_ these things.”   Tom says with a defiant look in his eyes.  
  
“Well, you like what you like.”   She shrugs.   “What’s in that?”  
  
“Vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice.”  
  
She has a sip.  “Ugh.   Well, too sweet for me, you can have it.”  
  
“Orange.”   Harry says.  
  
“Never orange.”  Tom says.   
  
“Orange is a no-go color.”   Harry says.   “Noted.”  
  
“What are we playing?”  B’Elanna says.     
  
“Oh, Harry has to guess something.  And then he wins a prize.”  
  
B’Elanna looks at both of them.  “This is some kind of weird sexual thing and … I don’t care.”     
  
“Correct.”   Tom grins.  
  
“I’ll leave you to that.”   She shakes her head, walking off through the crowd.  
  
Harry thinks for a minute.   “Is it … green?”  
  
Tom smiles at him across the table and finishes his drink.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
